In the officers’ half of the hut most people were already busy with their knives and forks, two or three perhaps just sitting down, the night watch-man probably sitting up on the edge of his bunk putting on his slippers, and cheerfully accepting the friendly insults from his pals at table who told him the date and year—­down went ski-sticks on the bed, room would be made at the table, and half a dozen dishes pushed your way, and although the mess-traps were enamelled, the food you shuffled down from the tin plate and the cocoa you lapped from the blue and white mug had not its equal at the Carlton, the Ritz, or the Berkeley.

Concerning the night watchman and his duties, although we had so many self-recording instruments, there were certain things which called for attention during the silent hours.  Aurora observations had to be made which no instrument would record, movement of clouds had to be noted in the meteorological log, the snow cleared from the anemometer and so forth, then of course rounds had to be made in case of fire, ponies and dogs visited, the galley fire lit or kept going according to requirements, and so on.  Night watch-keeping duty was only undertaken by certain members chosen from the afterguard.  Scott himself always took a share in this, as he did in everything else that mattered.  One came to welcome the night on, for the attendant work was not very strenuous and the eight hours’ quietude gave the watchman a chance to write up a neglected diary, to wash clothes, work out observations, and perhaps make contributions to the “South Polar Times” undisturbed by casual well-wishers who were not meant to see the article in question until the day of publication.  We were allowed to choose from the stores more or less what we liked for consumption in the stillness of the night watch.  I always contributed special China or Ceylon tea for the benefit of the lonely watchman—­I had two big canisters of the beverage, a present from one of our New Zealand well-wishers, Mrs. Arthur Rhodes of Christchurch, and these lasted the afterguard watch-keepers through the Expedition.  The auroras were a little disappointing this first winter as seen from Cape Evans, they were certainly better seen from the Barrier.  We only got golden bands and curtains splaying in the heavens, except for one or two rare occasions when there were distinct green rays low down amongst the shafts of weird light farthest from the zenith.

In view of the possibility of a second winter one kept a few letters going which contained a little narrative of our work to date.  We had most imposing note-paper which was used for these occasions:  the crest consisted of a penguin standing on the South Pole with the southern hemisphere underfoot, a garter surrounding this little picture inscribed with “British Antarctic Expedition—­’Terra Nova’ R.Y.S.”  Alas, some of the letters were never delivered, for death not only laid his hand upon certain members of the Expedition, but also upon some of our older friends, supporters, and subscribers.